Change
by indietronica
Summary: Emma saves Henry's life. Over the course of her recovery, she begins spending more and more time with Regina.
1. Chapter 1

Over the recent weeks, things between "Snow White" and her "Prince Charming" had come to a standstill. No more marital conflict for David and no new bursts of true love-induced courage for Mary Margaret. No secret meetings or recollections of past fairytale lives. And no dwarves.

Thus, with a heavy sigh, Henry decided that the next stage of Operation Cobra had to commence. Apparently, the first part of this stage involves Henry dragging Emma around town on a rainy Sunday morning, looking for Ruby, whom they now know is most conveniently _not_ at the diner nor the inn. All Emma knows is that Henry believes Ruby is Little Red Riding Hood, and that finding her is now imperative.

"I really don't think I should be hanging out with you right in the middle of town, kid; there are people everywhere, and word gets around," Emma says, avoiding a particularly large puddle on the sidewalk. "Shouldn't I at least make an effort to conceal my defiance from your mother?"

Henry walks a few steps ahead of her, his little blue umbrella bobbing up and down over his head. He looks up at her over his shoulder, his scrunched expression just visible under the umbrella's nylon brim.

"What? I just don't want her to file a restraining order," Emma shrugs, twirling her own umbrella in one hand.

Henry turns back around and says, "Wouldn't you rather be defiant that irresponsible? If you weren't here, I'd be wandering the streets all by myself."

Emma weighs the pros and cons of defiance and irresponsibility as they continue down the sidewalk, coming to a conclusion that doesn't quite assuage her concern.

Suddenly, Henry shouts, "Look!" He points to the opposite corner of the intersection they've just come upon, where Ruby (who _must _be freezing her _ass_ off in those shorts) is chatting up Mr. Gold.

And then he's running across the street. Doesn't even look. There are _cars. _And he just runs right through damn the intersection. Emma drops her umbrella, running after him, shouting "kid!" and "hey!" and "stop!"

And then there's a grocery truck barreling right toward him and it happens both very fast and very slow at the same time.

Cartoon fruits and vegetables on the side of the truck. Three different car horns. Incapable brakes.

Step, pivot, jump, shove, step, and Henry's lying on his side on the wet sidewalk, looking back at her. His hair is stuck to his head. In Emma's head, she sees them both out of the way, but the_ impact_. It's there and it's loud and strong and hard and it feels like everything that has ever existed is in that impact, and the next, and the next.

And finally she stops.

Everything stops.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed my last chapter. I didn't expect such a response! I really appreciate it.

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><p>Each individual stimuli brings Emma closer to consciousness. First a steady electronic beep, then the unfamiliar white pillow beneath her head. Then the dim room and muffled voices outside and a woman in green scrubs. She stands to Emma's left, glancing back and forth between the heart monitor and her clipboard.<p>

Emma makes a noise, something between a sigh and a sob, and the woman turns to look at her.

"Oh! Ms. Swan. Good evening. I'll go get the doctor." The nurse is out the door before Emma can muster the second syllable of "okay," and before the cast on her left forearm and leg really register, Dr. Whale is at her side.

"Can you tell me what day it is, Ms. Swan?"

"Uh, Sunday?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Emma takes a moment to contemplate her answer. "I was... walking with Henry, and... oh. I was hit by a car, and..." She continues processing as her voice trails off.

"A truck, yes. You were very lucky. You – "

"Is Henry okay?" Emma tries to sit up, panicked by the mental image of him lying on the sidewalk. She's halted by a searing pain in a location she can't even really place. The tempo of the heart monitor's beeping increases.

"He's just fine," the doctor places a hand on her shoulder, pressing her back into the bed. "He was completely unharmed. You, on the other hand, hit your head on the concrete, requiring twenty four stitches to sew up. We performed a CAT scan this morning and everything appears normal. You've just confirmed that. You were very lucky."

Emma is suddenly aware of the crinkling bandage on the back of her head. She glances down at her torso for a long moment, taking in the blue hospital gown, the red scrapes, the white casts.

Dr. Whale flips through his notes, adding nonchalantly, "you broke three ribs, your left ulna—your forearm—and the two bones in your lower left leg." He gestures toward the end of the bed. "You also have some pretty severe bruising and some very minor scrapes, of course, but that's about it. No brain injuries, no internal bleeding. Very lucky."

Emma nods, bringing her unbandaged right hand up to rub her forehead. _He's just fine. _Henry's just fine. And she'll be just fine too, eventually.

"I'd like you to stay here, at least for the night, and then we can talk about your plans for discharge tomorrow."

"Sounds good, Doc." Emma's voice is hoarse, her body sore, her head still running through questions and answers, putting everything back together. She looks around the room and notices a bright bouquet of flowers on the table next to her bed.

"Henry got those for you. He sat right there," the doctor gestures to a little blue chair in one corner of the room, "for about three hours, reading to you. The mayor dragged him home just a bit ago."

Emma smiles to herself. The doctor clicks his pen and steps back toward the door. "A nurse will be in – "

The door swings open, cutting him off, and in rushes Mary Margaret. "Emma!" She exclaims, flying past a startled Dr. Whale to Emma's side. "Oh my – oh – I'm so glad you're – " Her expression is smiling relief and then chin-quivering gratitude.

"Oh, god," Emma grimaces. "Please don't cry. I'm begging you."

"I'm not going to _cry_." Mary Margaret scoffs, sniffling. Then her expression changes again, and she spins around to face the stealthily-retreating Dr. Whale. "Why didn't you contact me when this happened? It's been hours. I had no idea about any of this."

Following Mary Margaret's discovery of the relationship between Dr. Whale and a certain waitress at Granny's diner – a relationship budding at the same time as Dr. Whale's and Mary Margaret's – things had been less that amicable between she and the doctor. "You weren't one of Ms. Swan's emergency contacts."

"Ms. Swan doesn't have _any_ emergency contacts," she replies, "but this is a small town. It's practically common knowledge that I'm her roommate. _You _know I'm her roommate. I think you could've managed to inform me of her accident, and failing to do so just because I'm not listed as an emergency contact wasn't protocol. It was negligence."

Emma does her best to contain a smirk.

Dr. Whale shifts uncomfortably, inching closer toward the door, as he mumbles, "I apologize, but I have another patient to attend to. Perhaps we can continue this discussion later." He swiftly excuses himself and Mary Margaret's attention returns to Emma.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'll live."

Mary Margaret pulls a chair up beside Emma's bed, adding quietly, "I heard you saved Henry's life. Very brave of you."

Emma gives her a sidelong glance and lifts one shoulder. "Nah. What else was I going to do?" She pauses, glances at the bouquet again, adding, "He's my son."

Mary Margaret nods thoughtfully, and they sit in silence for a long moment, until she goes on to tell Emma about how she only first heard about the accident ten minutes ago, through _Kathryn_. Emma smiles and nods at the tale of their grocery store run-in, contemplating in the back of her mind how different things are for her; had she been put in the hospital a few months ago, no one would have visited her. Absolutely no one. Yet here she is, flowers on her bedside table and a friend, expressing great care and concern, sitting right next to her. While Emma had never really minded being alone, being _lonely_ was something she'd become unwillingly accustomed to.

But this was change, and this change was nice.


	3. Chapter 3

Emma wakes suddenly at the sound of the door handle turning. Her head hurts and everything is too bright and she's disoriented, not initially recollecting yesterday's events, or the reason for her current location. She tries to sit up and bright pain brings everything back. _Oh. _

Regina is standing at the door, her back to Emma as she eases it shut. Emma glances at the clock. It's just a little after eight in the morning, and all Emma wants to do is sleep for the next month. There have got to be some hospital-visiting-hour rules that Regina is breaking here.

"Miss Swan," Regina says, stepping forward, each tap of her heels on the linoleum stirring something up inside Emma. Every conversation is a battle, and Emma can practically feel the anticipatory adrenaline coursing through her body.

"Madame Mayor," Emma drops her chin, lifts an eyebrow.

"How are you feeling?"

"I've been better."

Regina smirks, the action just barely discernible on her full lips. She looks down at the bouquet in her hands, which Emma has just recognized. "I wanted to thank you."

Silence. Emma expects her to say more, but apparently that's the end of that statement. She lets herself relax a little more into the bed. "And here I thought you'd come to scold me for spending time with Henry."

"As much as I would like to do just that, you did save his life, and for that, I'm... very grateful."

Emma presses her mouth into a small half-smile, which Regina probably doesn't see. Her eyes remain not-so-subtly averted – floor, bouquet, chair, floor, bouquet, chair – briefly revealing to Emma an emotion she rarely sees in Regina; discomfort, for reasons Emma can't quite determine.

"Where is he?" Emma tries.

And in a second, that vague vulnerability is gone. "At school," she replies, stepping closer to the bed and placing her flowers on the table next to Henry's. "It _is_ Monday morning."

"Right."

Regina sits down in the chair Mary Margaret had occupied the night before, sliding it even closer. The familiar scent that is purely Regina fills Emma's nose. Sweet soap and ripe apples.

"He does want to see you," Regina adds, and Emma's surprised that she so readily admits it. "Do you know how long you'll be here?"

"I don't know. You beat Dr. Whale here this morning. But Henry can come by anytime, and after they let me leave, I'll be staying at Mary Margaret's."

Regina nods, and then they don't say anything. Suddenly, she stands abruptly and announces, "I really should be going."

"Of course," Emma forces herself to sit, to show some kind of strength or control in this situation. "Thanks for the flowers."

Regina nods again, evident discomfort returning, and says, "thank _you, _Miss Swan." She steps across the room to the door and is gone, the only evidence that she'd ever been in the room being the flowers on the table and the strange feeling in Emma's stomach that she can't quite place.


End file.
